#the wifi kept crashing

[talleryn]

[luvsavos]

i deserve financial compensation for the amount of fucking hoops i had to jump through to enable tipping on here

[love-fireflysong]

Well this is super upsetting. Just last night my ps4 decided to black screen of death me and it turns out that the issue is a hard drive problem and that needs to be replaced. Which isn't the issue, cause due to the fact that I had replaced my laptops hard drive last summer I hilariously enough have a spare 1tb hard drive laying around! And that's something super easy to fix.

No, my problem is that replacing my hard drive means that all my saved game data has just gone *poof*. And while checking my saved data on my roomies ps4 pretty much nothing was saved to the cloud so I can't even recover it... And because I'm having a bsod issue I can't even back up all that save data either 😭

[theoldsports]

SOLUTION.

Art Donaldson x Reader | 5k words

SORRY SERIES LINK.

warnings: pregnancy, implied discussion of abortion, a boy groveling on his knees for his family, there’s a dog (a real one, not just Art), talk about Art’s forced weird athletic borderline disordered eating.

okay, i lied last time. THIS is my best work. this is very out of my brain and i hope you love it. holy shit.

Have you ever sat and listened to a leaky faucet? I mean, really listened?

Steady. Like a heartbeat, if you think about it.

Sometimes, though, if the leak is slow enough, it’s more like the kind of heart rate that sends the nurse with the crash-cart sweeping into the room to shock you out of an AFIB pattern. Or however that worked.

[Y/N] was listening to it. The dripping. The kitchen sink. It hadn’t stopped for days. When it began, it was steady. Now, it was irregular. It started the day Art left

Art had been away at an early season tournament. [Y/N] had an impossible work week, so Art had told her he was happy to go for the better part of the week on his own. They both knew Art really did hate to be alone in situations like that. He had always had one of his people there. His mom, Patrick, [Y/N]; one of them was in his corner at these things. This time, he was truly on his own. Art could not stand to travel alone. He had his team of physios and coaches, but not his family. [Y/N] was going to swing by and surprise him at the end, but her boss had leaned into her for trying to take more days off during release season for the big summer blockbusters. Plus, someone did have to watch the dog.

This context about Art’s being away is important. It’s not that Art was the epitome of a handyman, but he really liked to feel like he was contributing to their home’s ecosystem when a lightbulb went out or a switch needed replacing. The man was incredible with the small things. Yet, [Y/N] sat at the kitchen table with a frown on her face, trying to rough in an outline for an article. With the faucet dripping. If Art were there, or if she was with Art three states over, the faucet wouldn’t be dripping against the porcelain basin.

It wasn’t like the wifi signal was strong enough anywhere else on the property for her to up and move either.

drip drip drip. Said the faucet.

[Y/N] was damn near the point where she was going to run upstairs to the bedroom and get the baseball bat Art kept with the express purpose of running down the stairs in his briefs and cracking up on possible intruders. All she could think about was bringing the wood down against the glass and cheap metal on her kitchen counter.

A new house would have a working sink and a bathroom counter that wasn’t too small and a halfway decent wifi signal.

Instead, [Y/N] set her face down upon the cool blue faux granite countertop. The temperature helped ease the feeling of the hyperbolic corkscrew being driven between her eyes. The dripping kept dripping and [Y/N] wanted to cry.

This agony wasn’t all the sink’s fault, though.

[Y/N] saw on the tennis channel before she even got a call from Art that he’d won that weekend. He still hadn’t called. The lack of a call from made her feel ashamed. Not a soul there to celebrate the success with him. She felt an immense sense of guilt slide across her skin because she wasn’t there to witness that smile he got when he won. Sweaty and angry, but relieved every time. He still got that look when he won. Art was a machine on the court, and a competitor not worth counting out at this point in his career. He still looked surprised and delighted every time he, of all people, hit the winner. [Y/N] loved that look. Art loved how she would celebrate with him after a win, too.

[Y/N] prayed Art made his flight without delay that evening. Selfishly, because she wanted her boy back. Also because Art was mortally terrified of airplanes. Planes made him feel out of control due to lack of trust with the pilot. Without that phone call from him, [Y/N] was scared knowing he was out on his own and that he likely felt anxious enough to give a horse a heart attack. She would have no way of knowing if something had happened between the match end and now.

She did know that the sink was leaking.

She also knew her period was two weeks late.

That, Art couldn’t fix on his own. In fact, it was fairly obvious that the delay was more or less Art’s fault.

[Y/N] hadn’t yet taken a pregnancy test at that time. If she took the time to take one, it would make everything the obvious answer a reality she would have to deal with. She had scares before. Ones that she had never, and would never, tell Art about. She would wait for her delayed—not missed!—period and everything would be fine. Like the other times. It had to be fine.

She checked her phone. It was a blue slidephone with small rhinestone stickers she had applied to the back. Still nothing from Art. He said he would call first right after the match, but he still hadn’t actually called, so maybe it was time to call first. It had been hours since he said he’d ring up. It wasn’t a major concern that Art would blow her off. Ideas of danger and uncertainties flooded her head.

“I’m the one that wants marriage so bad. Not Artie. What if he says no? Or not now…?”

[Y/N] sat on the beach with her back against Patrick’s shins. Art and [Y/N] were completing their first year completely post college. [Y/N] and Patrick were twenty-four and Art was almost twenty-four. His November birthday set him behind.

Patrick’s hands were on her shoulders and his body in a beach chair behind her while they both stared off over ocean as the sun set. “You’re actually stupid if you think he’ll deny you, [Y/N].”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to step on his game, or whatever. The guy is supposed to ask. Isn’t this going to be… emasculating or something?”

“Emasculating for Art? For pretty baby? Yeah, okay,” Patrick teased. [Y/N] threw a fistful of sand at him. “Christ, okay, okay. Cool it.” He spit.

Art had run back up toward to hotel to grab his water bottle, while Patrick and [Y/N] stayed at the dunes. [Y/N] wanted to propose to Art by trip’s end. She thought it would be sweet. Art was extremely forward when it came to her her, but he hadn’t been forward about the whole proposal business. He seemed scared about marriage. [Y/N]he would do it herself.

She was grateful for the time alone with her best friend too. Sitting and doing nothing, or partying. Either was more than welcome. “He’s not going to say no,” Patrick continued. His mouth casually leaned close to her ear. “Because it’s insane how whipped you’ve got him.”

“Don’t say that—“

“He wants to have your babies. Ask him. Trust me, he’ll say yes and he will be all the hell over you.” His fingers worked into [Y/N]’s shoulders, feeling the tension there. He took his hands off of her when Art came running down the beach.

[Y/N] heard a click in the lock. Her head flopped to the left, still pressed against the counter, to glance at the door. Her heart rate increased. She was so tired and the speed of the situation so fast, that she didn’t both moving or attempting to defend herself.

Most fortunately, when the door swung open, it was her Art. The sun was going down behind him. He looked a bit ragged and had a racket bag over one shoulder and two duffels in the other hand. She sat upright sharply on the kitchen barstool. “Pretty baby!”

All Art’s gear hit the floor. The door was left open behind him (taking a big chance that their Labrador mix, Cheese, didn’t run down the stairs and bolt out and away). Art walked toward [Y/N], arms extending. His strong arms pulled [Y/N] in close to his chest. She rested her head against his soft gray t-shirt. Her own arms embraced him back and one of her hands tucked comfortably into the back pocket of his jeans. “[Y/N]… I missed you.” Art said into her hair.

“I missed you… I-I… You didn’t call. How did you get here—“

“Final match actually started on time, so I gambled on moving my flight to the earlier one. I didn’t have time to call if I was taking the early one. I should’ve texted. I got nervous with the-the flight. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

[Y/N] leaned back to look at him. There was no more welcome sight in the world than Art Donaldson. Irish genetics saw to it that Art was freckled from the spring sun. With shaggy hair boyishly covered by a baseball cap tipping back dangerously, he practically glowed. Even though he looked like shit. His sunglasses were hanging on his shirt. [Y/N/] tilted her head up, signaling for a kiss. Hungrily, Art leaned forward to take as many kisses as he wanted. His lips tasted like spearmint gum. Like always.

Cheese did run downstairs when Art’s hand climbed up the side of [Y/N]’s throat and when her own hand started to squeeze from under the fabric of Art’s back left pants pocket. Art had to pull regretfully away to grab Cheese by the collar and shut the front door.

Delightedly, Art did gteet Cheese with ear-scratches and a belly rub. Art received the customary licks and a tailwags in return. Cheese was always pretty down when the whole family wasn’t together. He walked and played a bit, but when his dad wasn’t around, Cheese kind of deflated. He had spent most of the time laying flat on Art’s side of the bed. It was obvious the dog was grieving the disappearance of his boy.

When Art bent down to pat his beloved Cheese, [Y/N] stood from her chair and bent at the waist. She pulled Art’s hat off and set it on the counter. Gently, she kissed Art on top of the head. With a scratch not unlike the ones he gave to the canine to the back of Art’s neck, the man looked up at her from the ground with a half-smile.

“Congrats, baby,” [Y/N] said. Art cut his eyes curiously from her to the tennis channel on the TV playing in the next room. That had him realizing where she would have gotten the information of his win from so efficiently. “How was the tournament? I’m sorry I couldn’t—“

“Sure, sure, but I bet Cheese here is pretty glad you were home,” Art said and stood up with one final pat to Cheese’s flank. “The whole thing was great. I… I’m kind of surprised I won, if I’m being honest.” Art said, wrapping an arm around [Y/N]’s waist.

Naturally, her hands flattened against his toned chest when he tugged her towards him. “I’m not. You’re fucking good at tennis, Art.”

His ears reddened in embarrassment as he tucked his face into [Y/N]’s neck to hide his face. Art was used to praise and loved it more than anything, no matter where it came from. Every compliment from [Y/N] was worth a hell of a lot more. Art hated thinking about why that was the case. He knew why, though. She had seen he and Patrick play and even then thought Art was good. Art still won the match when it came to [Y/N] and he would never tell her that.

“Hush…” He mumbled into her neck, planting a biting, teasing kiss there. She laughed. He laughed. “I played against an eighteen year old kid yesterday. He played really well,” Art leaned back to look at her again. “You saw, I’m sure,” he indicated the TV with a nod. “He would’ve won this weekend if I hadn’t won that match. Just… I’m twenty-six. Made me feel old.”

“…Glad you won, then.”

“I said if I hadn’t…”

“Well, if you’re sooooo down on your win then congrats on flying home all by yourself like a big boy.” [Y/N] smirked.

“Oh, you’re gonna be like that, huh?” Art withdrew his hands from his wife’s body and put them teasingly on his own hips.

[Y/N] nodded. “Yeah. If you’re old, imagine how I feel.”

“Ancient, probably.”

Art leaned in for another kiss. She pushed him back playfully. “No! You called me old!” [Y/N] laughed.

She leaned one way, then the other to avoid Art’s beautifully wrinkled nose and smiling mouth. “Please? I’m sorry, I’m sorry! You’re-you’re not old!” Art said and attempted to trap her with his arms and give her a kiss.

[Y/N] turned hard over her shoulder and ran up the stairs. Cheese gave a woof from the couch when Art chased after her. Art spent his life chasing after her.

“No! You can’t kiss me! Doghouse! Bad Art! Bad!” [Y/N] accused jokingly. Art jumped up the stairs. He took them two and three at a time.

Art backed her against the bathroom door. Nowhere left to run. His rough hands settled on her hips. “Gotcha. You’re pretty fast for an old lady, y’know. Late for bingo, or—“ Art smirked when he leaned in to kiss her.

[Y/N] shut him up with a kiss. She had missed his stupid boy babbling. His mouth was soft against hers. Art put one of his hands on the wooden door beside her face to hold himself up. The other hand found her belt loop, keeping her body close to his.

“I love you,” Art whispered between kisses. “I love you so much, honey. I missed you.”

[Y/N]’s head leaned back against the door with a soft thud. Her breath caught in her throat. “I love you t—mmh!” Art leaned in for another kiss.

The joy of being Art Donaldson’s wife was that he never got tired of touching her, or being physically close. Sometimes, [Y/N] would look over at him while she was writing, or making dinner, and he would be staring, or slowly extending his hand to her and seeing how long it took for [Y/N] to acknowledge his presence. It never ceased to make her feel beautiful. “Can we…” his fingers danced over the button on her jeans.

“Can we what…?” She asked coyly.

Art blushed, but smirked and lowered his lips by [Y/N] ear. “Can we fuck? Please?” He asked too politely for as dirty as those words were. Like the good midwestern boy that he was.

She tipped her head back further. Art kissed her neck with all the energy he could muster. “Can I not make you dinner first? You-you a cheap whore as well as old now, too?” [Y/N] jeered. Art snorted a laugh. The warm air from the giggle spread over [Y/N]’s skin, causing goosebumps to raise. “I’m never letting you leave home alone again, then.”

Art nodded against her skin, sucking and licking a spot they both new would bruise dark. The sound she let out was absolutely disgusting and Art loved it. “I would prefer to never be let out of your sight, personally.” He said when he pulled away.

“Come on, house boy… We’re havin’ dinner. And you’re gonna eat some bread,” [Y/N] said, pointing a finger at Art’s chest. He started to put up a fight about the ultra-low nonexistent amount of inactive carbs he was eating during the season, but [Y/N] kept chattering. “Stop talking. Your brain doesn’t work right without carbs. Braindead. Come on, dinner.”

“You’re bad for me.”

“I know.” [Y/N] smiled.

Normally, [Y/N] drank a cup of coffee when the pair made dinner. Art knew the pattern. He made her the cup of coffee every time. It sat mostly unfinished that night, though. She found herself heating and reheating it in the microwave as they cooked. She started to space out as he recapped the tournament in full detail, as she requested. If Art noticed, he didn’t let on. [Y/N] noticed, though. Little stood between her and coffee. She didn’t want to drink it. That was violently unusual.

“Hey, I’m gonna go piss. Can you—“

“Watch the sauce?” Art asked, indicating the creamy pesto she had on the stove while Art cleaned and cut vegetables.

“Mhm.” [Y/N] confirmed. Art slid over to take the spoon from her. He placed a hand at the bottom of her back as she walked away. Art fit perfectly into her life. It wasn’t fair how right he was for her.

She went to the upstairs bathroom instead of the downstairs one. She hoped that didn’t set off Art’s sixth sense about the way-things-had-to-be. Once upstairs, [Y/N] wasted no time yanking open the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. It was overflowing, naturally. Makeup, supplements, condoms, hair ties, pill bottles, loose painkillers. It was a disaster. There was also a pregnancy test.

A laughing Art had given it to [Y/N] as a joke the morning after their wedding night and she had hit him hard enough to bruise across the chest. The test sat wrapped and in the box behind the mirror every day since. Just in case.

[Y/N] had officially arrived at just in case.

She gingerly tossed the empty box under the sink so Art wouldn’t see it without looking for it. Then, [Y/N] undid the buttons on her overalls and, well, took the test.

Lacking the time to sit and watch it come back positive or negative, [Y/N] tossed the clean cap on the stick, slid it into the pocket of her overalls, washed her hands and went downstairs like nothing was wrong.

Except she knew something was wrong. Now she felt like she had a loaded gun in her pocket. She was too cautious with her movements due to the fear that the test would slip out of her front right pocket in front of Art.

She was damn near about to step into the pantry and shut the door just to see if the pee stick had one line or two. If he wasn’t already suspicious, that would do it. [Y/N] felt that the anxiety created was easily the worst anxiety she had ever had. Oops.

[Y/N] got quiet. She was talking less and listening more. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but she was a chatterbox. Art would notice her blanched face and wrinkled brow eventually, she worried.

Ever the perceptive bastard, Art did. When he sat beside [Y/N] at the counter to eat a bowl of pasta with more inactive carbs than he had eaten in six months, he kept cutting his eyes at her. His bare foot nudged her ankle. Her dish was relatively untouched. “You good, babe? You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You are being weird because you’re not being you. I’ve barely asked you how you’re doing with all the excitement. Long day?” Art asked, setting down his fork to drag his hand across the back of her shoulders.

“Yeah, a bit.” [Y/N] said. What she meant to say was I have a pregnancy test and I bet it is positive in my pocket right now and I’m so terrified that I can practically smell my pit stains right now, baby. But she didn’t say that.

Art spun to face her, taking in her expression and demeanor. There was that contemplative knot perched between his eyebrows. The back of his hand landed calmly on [Y/N]’s forehead to check her temperature. “Art…” [Y/N] said, pushing his hand down.

“No, hang on.” Art said firmly. He tried to put his hand back on her face. Instead, not having a clue what it said, [Y/N] reached into her front right pocket and slammed the pregnancy test down between them. Art retracted his hand and flinched back a bit at the sudden movement. The test was face down on the counter.

Art’s eyes cut from the test back to her. His face was suddenly very solemn. “Are you—“

“—I dunno. I didn’t-I couldn’t look. It’s been in my pocket for twenty minutes. No idea.”

“Do you think you are?”

[Y/N] shrugged and looked at her bowl. It looked too green. sick sick sick. drip drip drip said the faucet.

“Do you want to know if you are?” Art asked wide-eyed. “I want to know, personally. Do… Do you?”

Again, [Y/N] shrugged. “If we don’t look, it’s not real.”

“…That’s stupid.” Art shook his head.

“You’re stupid.”

Art sighed. “I’m gonna look. I mean, I’m going to turn it over,” his eyes frantically reached for [Y/N]’s. He grabbed her hand with his to get her attention. “I’m going to look. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah.” She whispered and it was okay.

And she was pregnant.

Two blue lines stared at them.

“Fuck.” [Y/N] said. She felt both elated and humiliated. She wanted so badly to be a mother. She wanted to cry. How could they keep it? The timing was wrong. She hadn’t agreed to this. The two of them had so many fights about it. She barely understood how this happened. She thought they were being so careful. It didn’t make any sense. Every precaution she could think of had been taken at one point or another.

And the fucking faucet was still dripping. She could hear it. drip drip drip. Over and over.

“Fuck.” She said sliding out of her chair and standing unsteadily. That wasn’t the result one should feel when they get something they have spent so long wanting.

Art ran his hands through his hair. He knew he shouldn’t be smiling when she looked so worried. His face betrayed the wide smile he hoped to hide. That’s exactly what he wanted to see. Fuck.

“Honey… Hey, hey. You’re okay. This is awesome. C’mere.” Art said like he was diffusing a bomb. His arm were wide open to hold her.

“Art…”

“No, uh-uh. Just come here. Please.”

Cautiously, [Y/N] made her way into her favorite pair of arms in the world. “It’s not supposed to be like this.” [Y/N] choked out as Art held her.

“Shh, I know, I know,” Art said calmly. His left hand’s fingers brushed her hair away from her face. “But that’s how it is now. We have to accept that and solve for the next move, right?” It was silent for a while after that. [Y/N]’s arms were tightly wrapped around Art’s shoulders and their bowls of pasta were certainly cold. She felt that she had ruined everything.

She glanced at Art’s face. The small smile betrayed him. “Art… We can’t. Not now.” she had told Art not now so many times that it felt forced and rehearsed. Now that [Y/N] that was actually pregnant, she wanted nothing more than to stay pregnant. The timing was far from good. She had articles that were still very due the next day. She had a husband who very much traveled often for work (who she traveled with too). She had Cheese, who was staring at her weird over the back the couch because he didn’t understand crying.

“What do you mean we can’t?” Art said quietly. “We-We can. We… have. We are… Actively.” He fumbled.

“We can. We did! But… You know now’s not a good time, baby.” [Y/N] countered weakly.

Art’s hands never left [Y/N]’s waist. “Let’s run pros and cons.”

“Pretty baby.” She said accusatorially. Good old analytic Art…

“Let’s run pros and cons.” Art repeated unflinchingly. He sprang up off of his barstool to gather a sharpie and a legal pad from some drawer. Art uncapped the marker harshly with his teeth. Cap between his teeth still, he asked: “Do you want it?” while he found a clean, smooth page.

Before she could respond with her head, [Y/N] responded with her heart. She nodded a yes to him immediately. “Do you?”

Art capped the back end of the marker to free up his mouth. “More than anything ever, I think. It would probably kill me a little bit, actually, if… Yeah. I understand and it’s all up to you, honey, but… Yeah.” His hand created a PRO column and a CON column on the page.

Under PRO, Art added the items he knew would cause no trouble in his blocky capitalized handwriting:

FINALLY START FAMILY

NATURAL/EASY START

SEASON ALMOST OVER

[Y/N] HAS FLEXIBLE HRS

DREAM COME TRUE??

WILL BE GR8 PARENTS

[Y/N] nodded in approval. She couldn’t think of more pros, but Art handed her the marker and she started in on the CON list:

OLYMPICS??

ART’S NEVER HOME

EXPENSIVE

SMOKING/COFFEE

CHEESE JEALOUS?

TOO YOUNG!

Art drew the line at giving up stimulants and assigning the dog human traits and struck both of those off the list with a frown.

Frankly, Art thought the cons list turned out rude.

“I haven’t qualified for the Olympics yet,” he protested. “And if I do, imagine how early on that would be. Before all the hard stuff.”

[Y/N] replied with the thing they both knew was the most real problem. She had waited forever to say it out loud. “No offense… You are never home anymore. You’re busy all the time. Which I get. It’s your job. You’re good at your job. But look how excited the fuckin’ dog got to see you because you were gone so long. You are never here. We can’t put a human in doggy day camp all the time. It would be fucking impossible to raise—“

“I’ll quit,” Art said, wincing. He wouldn’t. [Y/N] felt that this was a bluff. He tried in vain to hide his expression of shame. “I’ll quit tennis.” He said. He wasn’t going to.

“That would worsen the problem. No money.”

“I’ll work at the 7/11. I’ll be a construction worker. I could be a fuckin’ coach. I actually have a degree, y’know, I can use it. I’m more than a racket. I don’t want you to feel alone here. I want to be here for all of it, I can—“

“You know I’m alone here a lot, babe. A lot. You don’t… You’re in a position where you’re unable to help constantly. Because you’re gone. That’s okay. I married you knowing that, right? But a baby, Art? That’s not fair.”

“I’ll bail on a season. I will. I just…” Art stared at her. “Please. I’m begging you. See this kid through with me.”

The sharpie was forgotten on the counter along with dinner. Art’s knees landed on the floor before [Y/N]. Art practically lived on his knees in front of [Y/N]. He gathered [Y/N] hands in his. “Please. It’s your call, but hear me out. Because that thing is part of both us. I don’t want you to hate or resent me or the little stinker forever, but you want it. I know that. Hear me out.” His beautiful two-tone eyes stared up at her.

“Fine. Go ahead.”

“I will give you anything. Please, my world is you. Not tennis; you. I’m telling you, I-I would leave that behind to be anything you need right now. Just ask it. You’re my fucking priority, you got that? I just.. I… Please? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I want to keep it too, but—“

“Then what’s the big deal?” Art asked hopefully.

“It isn’t a good time. It’s too soon.”

Art’s mouth trailed kisses across his wife’s stomach and hips and hands and arms. He let this go on for several minutes. “Please,” Art whimpered pathetically into the skin of her wrist. “Please, please, please. I will do anything, my love. I’m on my knees here,” Art looked up at her through thick lashes. “We can do this. Both of us together. I’ll do whatever you want. You know I will. This can be good for us. I’m really sorry we’re here, but here we are, hon. What time’s going to be the right time? Please. I love you.” Art pleaded desperately.

[Y/N] knew this was going to be a disaster. But she wanted to keep it. What time’s going to be the right time? rung in her ears over and over, like the faucet. They had put so much time into arguing about the time and the place that would be right for a family. Now it was right in front of them. Her hand caressed Art’s face. She loved it when he groveled like that. This time, on his knees and everything. On instinct, he nuzzled his face into her hand and looked up at her through long lashes.

“Will you fix the faucet? It’s been dripping all week.”

“Anything.”

“I’ll… I’ll think about it. I’m going to think about it. The baby.”

“You will?” Art’s teary eyes widened.

“Objectively, this is a terrible fucking idea. We both know that. But if it’s really so terrible, why do I feel, like… happy about it…”

Art’s face lit up. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. [Y/N], honestly, found it very hard to say no to Art. His arms wrapped carefully around her thighs while his head rested against her middle as he knelt. [Y/N] could feel his silver ring through the denim of her overalls. “God, I love you. I love you, [Y/N]. We’re not going to regret this. Holy shit…”

“Love you too. We’re gonna… We’re gonna try, maybe? This doesn’t feel real. Does this feel real? I…”

“It feels like a dream is what it feels like,” Art mumbled into her clothes. “I love you.” Art said, pressing a kiss to her stomach.

“I love you.”

“I’m gonna be a dad…” Art almost wept. “If you, y’know, but… Shit. I’m sorry.” Which part he was apologizing for was unclear.

At that, [Y/N] laughed and tangled her fingers in his curly blonde mop of hair. “Yeah, you’re gonna be a fucking dad, pretty baby.” She smiled.

[Y/N]’s next instinct was to say: I have to call Patrick. Then she remembered couldn’t call Patrick.

TAGLIST (ask to join):

@diorrfairy @donaldsonsdarling @muthafuckingstargirl @shysstuff @soberbabes @avylanchce

apologies for tag issues. i’ll dm those it didn’t work for!

[annarubys]

starting november 5th by watching a wedding that isn’t even destiel i need to be killed

[daddy-dins-girl]

First Date: Frankie Morales

HAPPY FRANKIE FRIDAY Y'ALL!

Masterlist

AO3 link

Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Summary: Based on this tumblr Ask. A full one-shot based on a quick little headcanon drabble I wrote about what a first date with Frankie Morales might look like. There's a little of backstory for Reader because it's me and you know I just can't help myself.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Fluff and smut (because we like to strike a delicate balance here). Porn with a sprinkle of plot (again, delicate balance). Cuteness overload during your date with Frankie (sign me up for this date please). Heavy makeout session. Mutual masturbation. Fooling around in the back of Frankie's truck because of uh... reasons. Read to find out! I think that's it for warnings. As far as my stuff goes I'd say this is pretty tame? lol. But if I missed anything lmk!

Notes: I hope there aren't any glaring mistakes here. If I find any I'll come back and edit. Tbh I wrote 99% of it on my phone because our wifi was down for THREE DAYS here (RIP me!). It finally came back this morning just in time for me to post this for Frankie Friday ❤️

You tap your phone’s screen to illuminate it and check the time for probably the fifteenth time in as many minutes to make sure you’re not running late yet as you stand over the bathroom counter putting the final touches on your appearance, wanting to look perfect for tonight. Nerves flutter in your tummy like butterflies and you have to constantly remind yourself to calm down, take it easy.

“It’s just Fish, nothing to get yourself all worked up about” Benny had offered earlier, unhelpfully.

Sure, to your cousins Benny and Will it was just their longtime friend and military buddy, but to you it was the very cute, though very shy, sweet guy that you had met for the first time only recently since you came to “temporarily” crash at your cousins place.

Temporarily had turned into three months far faster than you anticipated. You needed a fresh start, to get out of a not great situation and it was actually your Aunt who had suggested the move to you during your phone call to her on her birthday. Your mother had already been filling her ear with your personal drama it seemed and though she didn’t want to pry, she did want to help and she suggested getting away for even a couple of weeks, that her sons had lots of room at their place and would be happy to have you for a while. After a few phone calls with both Will and Benny they had settled any doubts you might’ve had and welcomed you with open arms when you showed up at their doorstep with little more than a single roller suitcase and a small potted plant under your arm. It was about all the possessions you had left after the less than amicable split with your ex that left you couch surfing at your friends for months before the transition to Will and Benny’s.

So now here you stand, in the bathroom of the guest bedroom you have been calling your own for three months, getting ready for a date with the painstakingly handsome pilot himself, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales.

You know how badly your cousins have been teasing you about the date, you can’t even begin to imagine the ribbing Frankie must have been taking from them since he’d asked you out last Sunday at a barbecue Will and Benny had been hosting and they’d somehow gotten wind of it. You’re surprised Frankie even kept the date, to be honest. Your cousins, you love them with all your heart, but they can be… a lot. You’re very glad Frankie didn’t back down to the pressure though. You’d seen him a fair bit in your few months here and have been dying for him to finally ask you out. You’d flirted enough and though he’d been quiet and shy in the beginning, the more you got to know each other, the more he seemed to come out of his shell around you.

So now here you were, moments before Frankie was due to show up at your door and you silently cursed yourself for not being as ready as you should be. You wanted to be ready and standing outside by now so that Will and Benny couldn’t get any more jabs in to poor sweet Frankie if he had to stand at the door waiting for you, but as you pull on the short, light denim jacket over your sundress you hear a bark of laughter from Benny and already you know you’re too late.

You quickly press some lip gloss on, run your hands through your hair to make sure it’s falling exactly how you want it to and then take a deep breath in the mirror and quickly scurry out of the bedroom to hopefully save the man that is standing outside on the porch.

“No keeping her out past curfew, no drinkin’ and drivin’, no crazy parties or gettin’ too handsy on the first date”

Benny is listing things off on his fingers to poor Frankie like he’s your father scalding your prom date and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Will, you said you’d both be nice” you complain out loud to the older of the two brothers. Will wasn’t much better, but sometimes talking to Benny was like talking to a toddler amped up on a pack of Skittles, there was no getting through when he got over excited about something.

The most ridiculous part about it was that you and Benny were about the same age so it was a little comical, though sweet in his own way, how he tried to ‘big brother’ you.

“Ah c’mon Ace, we were just joshin’ him a bit” Will replies, bright white smile gleaming at you with a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Ace of course being the nickname they had stuck you with since you were old enough to remember. Any family event you’d ever attended whenever there was any sort of game or sport going on the two boys always ensured you were on their team, likely because you were the only one close in age to them but you liked to tell yourself that it was also because the three of you always had fun together. They have always been so competitive and any time they won (largely due to their own efforts) they were sure to tell everyone that it was all because of you, that you were ‘the ace up their sleeve’ even when you barely did anything. Hell most softball games you preferred to sit in the grass picking flowers while they ran circles around you like pro athletes, but it was sweet how they always made sure to include you and make you feel good about yourself.

“Well we agreed you two goons wouldn’t scare him away” you remind them with a playful roll of your eyes and a swat to Benny’s shoulder when you finally reach the doorway.

You can see Frankie’s appreciative gaze roam over you from head to toe and as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and nervously adjusts his ball cap you know he’s itching to say something to you but probably weighing the pros and cons in his head about the two extra sets of ears hearing what’s meant only for you and so you decide for him. You shove past your two cousins, quickly tell them you love them and not to wait up and push them far enough back in the house so you can slam the door shut, finally leaving you on the porch with just Frankie.

“Hi” you breathe out, a smile spreading across your lips. He looks casual but deliciously handsome in a pair of dark tan khaki pants and an untucked light blue button down with the sleeves rolled up, putting his tanned and muscular forearms on display. He still has his infamous Standard Oil hat on, hints of chocolate brown curls peeking out from underneath it. You don’t think you’ve actually ever seen him without it, come to think of it. You try to picture him without it and an image just doesn’t come.

“You look beautiful” he tells you, a hint of shyness in his tone and a blush rises in your cheeks that didn’t come from a makeup stick.

“Thank you. I’m sorry about tweedle-dee and tweedle-A-D-D in there” you joke, gesturing a thumb over your shoulder at your two cousins who are currently fighting each other over who gets to look through the small pane of glass next to the door to watch your interactions with Frankie on the front step.

“Unfortunately I’m very used to it” he quips, giving you a warm smile. “Shall we?” He asks, sweeping an arm out towards his truck idling at the curb and you nod your head and lead the way.

Before you reach the truck however Frankie jogs up behind you to brush past and ensures he reaches the passenger door handle before you do and opens it wide, offering you a hand to help you up and inside. You both decide to ignore the whooping yells and hands slamming on the glass next to the door at the top of the walkway behind you.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, shall we?” You offer once Frankie’s climbed into the driver's seat next to you and he chuckles but nods his head.

“With pleasure” he agrees and pulls the truck away from the curb.

You’re driving for nearly an hour. Frankie had apologized already on several occasions, admonishing himself for not preparing you beforehand to make sure you wouldn’t be too hungry when he picked you up. You tell him it's fine countless times but he still admits he should’ve discussed his plan with you ahead of time.

“Hey, if what you say is true and these really are the best tacos I’ve ever had, you’ll not only be forgiven but I’ll be glad I was ravenous by the time we get there” you tell him and finally he seems to accept it and offers you a small smile, hand going to the dial on the radio to turn the classic rock tunes up just a little bit for the last few minutes of your drive.

The drive is nice. The ocean follows along in your journey when you look out your window and the way the sun sits in the sky you know it’ll be threatening to set not long after you arrive at your destination. Truth be told you were a little nervous when you first started driving and Frankie mentioned how long the trip would be. You worried that you wouldn’t have much to chat about or that it might get awkward but it had been anything but. Besides Frankie’s little bouts of anxiety about whether or not he should’ve mentioned to you what time you’d actually be eating, everything was going better than you had expected. The conversation seemed to flow easily between the two of you. You had enough jumping off points, with both of you having more than your fair share of stories or anecdotes about Will and Benny. You shared stories of your youths while Frankie caught you up on some of the more recent goings-on with them that you hadn’t been privy to since, before recently, you obviously spent a lot less time with them in your adult years versus the childhood ones. Before long the conversations shifted more to yourselves and your own personal lives and before you knew it Frankie was pulling the truck into a crowded parking lot in front of the beach.

You make your way through the throngs of people on the boardwalk, Frankie’s warm hand on your lower back a steadying presence as he guides you through the crowds towards the brightly painted green and yellow food truck off in the not-too-far distance. Your mouth is watering already and you’re not sure whether it’s for the tacos or the man on your left with the broad shoulders and thick arms but a gentle, calming touch.

If you had to venture a guess, it would be for the latter.

Frankie, to his credit, was absolutely right about the tacos. You’re halfway through your third one when you finally tap out and call it quits, unable to possibly stomach another bite - despite how delicious they are.

“I can’t. I want to, but I can’t” you admit defeat to what’s left of your dinner, tossing your napkin on top of your paper plate and holding your hands up in surrender and the corner of Frankie’s mouth curls up into a smirk.

“They’re good right?” He grins at you from across the picnic table while he stuffs the last bite of his own into his mouth and you roll your eyes dramatically at how good in fact they were.

“They were amazing, seriously. Well worth the drive and the wait” you tell him sincerely and then before you can talk yourself out of it you reach across the table to place your hand on top of his and give a little squeeze with your fingers.

“Thank you for dinner. I’m um… really glad you asked me out tonight”

That confession earns you an ear to ear grin from Frankie who swallows down the last bit of his dinner and then turns his hand palm-up so he can hold your fingers in his grasp.

“Me too. But, the night’s not over” he offers with a playful quirk of his eyebrow.

“There’s more?” Your brow line lifts to your forehead. “I’m going to need a few minutes to digest first” you laugh, placing a hand over your stomach and Frankie chuckles but nods his head in agreement.

“Take all the time you need,” he tells you.

The sun is beginning its descent from the sky as you sit at the table a while longer, happily chatting about everything and nothing. You ask Frankie more about his young daughter and can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips the way his face lights up when he speaks about her or shows you his favourite pictures or videos of her on his phone.

With your food finally settled you’re back to wandering the boardwalk again with Frankie leading the way. He stops you at an ice cream truck and you groan at the idea of having to shove more food into your stomach but the childish grin and teasing nudge to your side with his elbow convinces you to take him up on his offer anyway and you ask for small scoop of the bright orange Tiger Stripe flavour in a dish while Frankie opts for a waffle cone of classic Mint Chocolate Chip.

With no small effort you manage to finish the sweet dessert and toss your garbage into a nearby receptacle and Frankie nudges your shoulder with his and gestures with an outstretched arm towards the beach.

“Wanna go walk it off?” He suggests and you give him an easy smile, more than excited about taking a romantic walk down the beach at sunset with him.

The warm sand squishes between your toes as you walk the length of the beach. Frankie had insisted on carrying your shoes for you when you opted to take them off; the strappy sandals hanging from the fingertips of his right hand while his left brushes experimentally against the back of your right and you turn your palm towards him and he wastes no time taking hold, your fingers interlacing. You smile and press a little closer into his shoulder.

“This is perfect” you sigh as soft waves lap at your feet and the sun bids it’s final adieu for the evening, disappearing just past the horizon on the other side of the ocean.

“So I did good?” Frankie smirks at you and you let out a little laugh, nodding your head.

“Ten out of ten would recommend” you answer without hesitation.

“Recommend to who? If you think I’m taking Benny on a date next you’re poorly mistaken” he jokes and it earns an outburst of laughter from you as you grab onto his forearm with your free hand and lean further in still.

“You guys could make a pretty cute couple” you tease and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head in laughter.

“Already got the prettiest Miller on my arm, thank you very much” he affirms and your giggles die down as the blush re-emerges and you turn your gaze down to the sand at your feet and squeeze his arm just a little tighter as a thank you to his easy compliment.

You walk a little while longer, your fingers still entwined and your free hand wrapped around his arm that’s holding your hand, snuggling as close as possible while you continue to chat and joke and tease each other.

Being with Frankie seems so easy. Normally you were so nervous during first dates and it’s been so long since you’ve actually been on one you could barely remember what it normally feels like but you’re certain it’s never felt like this. You felt comfortable. And maybe a lot of that had to do with the fact that you’ve already met with and hung out with him on numerous occasions now there was less to be nervous about. But you think it’s mostly him. He’s so easy going and calm to be around; he just puts you at ease with one upward curve of his lips or the way his soft brown gaze seemingly bores into your very soul with a single look.

Besides that, you knew he must be a pretty decent guy or Will and Benny would’ve had something (aside from friendly teasing) to say about it. They were the big brothers you never had growing up, always looking out for you until your lives took you all down very separate paths and if they trusted Frankie with you, you knew you were in good hands.

Hands that were currently, mind you, smoothing up and down your sides as Frankie pressed you into the passenger door of his pickup as you stood on the street outside your temporary home saying your goodnights.

“Kiss me” you breathe into the limited space between your two bodies that are thrumming with unspent energy.

Not bothering with a verbal response, Frankie closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours finally for that first kiss you’ve been craving since he picked you up hours ago. He tastes like mint and chocolate, and although normally it would be one of the last options you go for at the ice cream shop, the way it tastes on Frankie’s tongue instantly makes it your new favourite.

The energy in the cab of his truck the whole ride back had been tangible, his right hand on your thigh, yours trying not to dig into the plush material of the seats as you tried to focus your mind on anything other than ordering him to pull the truck into park so you could crawl into his lap and thank him properly, the way you wanted to so badly.

“Hermosa,” Frankie groans, his mouth trailing now from your lips down your jaw and to the side of your throat as his hands grip your hips. The scruff of his beard brushes the delicate skin of your neck when he nuzzles further into you and heat instantly pools in the lower part of your belly, causing a little moan to slip out. You feel your breath quicken, heart rate speeding up to keep pace with Frankie’s that you can feel through your clothes with how closely he’s pressed against you. Your arms raise to wrap around his neck, hands playing with the soft curls at the back of his head, running your fingers through them (something you’d been dying to do since the first time you met him, if you’re being honest with yourself).

“Should’ve taken me back to yours” you whisper against his ear as he continues to nip, lick and kiss at your throat.

“Santi’s on my goddamn couch” he groans, annoyed.

You remembered, now that he’s said it. Santiago, another military buddy of your cousins that you’d met a few times and one of Frankie’s best friends, had been having problems with his girlfriend and a week ago she had actually kicked him out of their shared apartment and with you taking up residence in Will and Benny’s guest room, that left Frankie’s couch.

“Shit” you mutter. You don’t dare take him inside to your room. Though the house looks dark and the boys are probably asleep, that’s not something you’re going to chance. At least not on a first date. You don’t need their judgment, nor do you need Frankie holding anything back from you due to the unfortunate circumstances.

His mouth is back on yours, unable to stay away from it for long it seems. His tongue pushes inside and strokes alongside yours, causing a little shiver to run down your spine. He licks into your mouth, exploring every cavern and swallowing all your little whimpers and whines. Frankie was an amazing kisser. You can’t help but wonder how talented his tongue may be elsewhere; the thought alone sending a fresh wave of arousal through you and causing another moan to slip out which Frankie responds to with one of his own. His right hand leaves your hip and goes to your thigh next, gently raising your leg off the ground to wrap around him and a gasp escapes you when his hand slips under the hem of your dress and trails upwards towards your hip.

“Fuck, Frankie” you breathe, pulling back just enough so you can start peppering kisses to his strong jawline.

“Tell me to stop, fuck, you need to tell me stop” Frankie pleads. You can feel his obvious desire for you pressed into your stomach as his left hand moves down to grope your ass and pull you even closer against him.

“Mmm, don’t want to” you hum into his throat and he groans in desperation, rocking his hips into you and causing a delicious bit of friction where you need it most. Your whole body is tingling, feeling like you could combust at any moment. Your muscles are tense, hands fighting for purchase on any part of him they can grab onto, eager to keep him from convincing himself to pull away from you.

Just when you feel him begin to pull back you do the only thing that comes to mind and turn in his grasp and reach for the back passenger door of the crew cab, swinging it open and pulling him back towards you by the collar of his shirt.

“Fuck, Sweetheart” he stops dead in his tracks, feet outside on the ground still while your ass hits the back seat so you’re seated sideways on the seat, facing him.

“Look, I might not be up for Gentleman of the Year Award or anything, but I’m not… I can’t have our first time be in the back of my truck. You deserve so much better than that”

Your brain doesn’t miss how he says ‘first time’ like it implies that there will be more times, and god you hope there is. And while you don’t disagree with him that fucking in his car like teenagers isn’t maybe the most romantic way to do this, you still need something and you don’t want this night to be over yet.

“Just… come fool around with me a little bit” you shrug, coy little grin tugging at the corners of your lips and you see on his adorable face the moment his resolve crumbles. He’s hopping up into the truck in a flash, slamming the door shut behind him. He pushes you back onto the bench seat so you’re flat on your back and finally rips his hat off his head and tosses it carelessly somewhere to the floor and you’re in a fit of giggles at the playfulness of it all. The laughter dies on your lips however when he’s kneeled before your spread legs and drags your knees up to his hips and presses himself down on top of you, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss while his lower half grinds into yours.

“Is this OK?” He murmurs into the side of your face as his kisses trail towards your throat.

“Mmm hmm” you nod frantically. “More than OK” you promise.

He hums into your throat and brings his right hand to your breast, his large hand covering the mound and gently massaging the soft flesh, kneading and squeezing just right as your little moans and the way your back arches to push your chest further into his touch encourages him.

“Fuck,” he growls before shoving the front of your dress and cups of your bra down so he can get his mouth on bare skin.

He pulls away from your throat and shuffles down slightly, leaning down to swirl the tip of his tongue around the pert bud and then gently pull it into his mouth. He alternates between sucking it into his mouth and teasing with quick flicks of his tongue while nimble fingers pay the other equal attention and you writhe underneath him, grinding into his leg, desperate for any friction you can create.

“Perfect tits” he mumbles into your skin before his mouth switches sides. Your hands are in his hair, gently tugging and scratching over his scalp and the way he occasionally groans and grunts at your actions you know he likes it. You wish you weren’t shoved inside the back of his pickup right now. Oh the things you would let his mouth do to you if you weren’t…

After long minutes of attention spent on your breasts his mouth is finally back on yours. He moans into you when his tongue wraps around yours again and you decide to play a little dirty yourself and wrap your lips around his tongue and suck it into your mouth, just for a moment and then you release. You feel his hardened cock twitch against your hip when he grinds it into you.

“Tell me what you want, Baby” he asks between ragged breaths as his lips create a hot trail of open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone.

You decide to show him, rather than tell him, and reach for his right hand and bring it underneath your dress to the aching need between your thighs and he practically growls into your throat when he feels the damp spot that’s already formed on your panties.

“Oh my god” he groans, taking his first two fingers and rubbing your lower lips over the soft, soaked lace.

“Oh fuck, Frankie, you feel so good” you whine, not caring how wrecked you sound already.

His mouth covers yours again, his kiss hungry and needy as his fingers bravely dip under the waistline of your panties to finally touch your naked sex and push through the warm slick folds.

“Oh my god, make me come baby, please. Fuck.” You beg, your hands wrapping around his neck again and grabbing on for dear life. It’s been far too long and Frankie is quickly unraveling you into a mewling desperate mess.

“I’ve got you, Hermosa” Frankie promises, his breath hot against your ear now and you don’t doubt that he does. His skilled digits are already driving you crazy and he’s barely begun. Maybe it’s because it’s been a while, or maybe Frankie just really knows his way around a pussy.

He plunges two fingers inside of you and you cry out at the welcomed intrusion, whimpering into his shoulder at how he’s nearly got you undone already.

“God you feel fucking amazing” he groans into your heated flesh.

“Fuck Frankie, don’t stop, please” you whimper.

He doesn’t. His fingers continue their torturous assault, pumping in and out of you and occasionally coming out to rub tight little circles around your small bundle of nerves that causes your arm to shoot up in the air, palm of your hand pushing hard against the ceiling of the truck cab as your impending orgasm lingers threateningly.

“Let me touch you, please” you beg and Frankie growls in response before his free hand goes to his pants and nearly rips them open so he can push them down to his thighs and your hand immediately wraps around his throbbing length.

“Holy shit” you breathe. Your fingers failing to quite reach all the way around his impressive girth. He’s warm and heavy in your hand, precum steadily leaking from the head that you gather in your hand to use to coat down the rest of his length.

“Christ” Frankie grunts, unable to stop himself from thrusting his hips once to fuck into your hand. “Shit I’m sorry it’s um, been a while” he confesses shyly and you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“For me too” you tell him, easing his nerves. “God Frankie, I’m so close”

With that he pulls his hand away from you for only a moment, bringing it to his mouth to wet his fingers with his tongue and then they’re back on your clit, experimenting between rubbing and circling and pressing and even lightly pinching until he finds out exactly what makes you squirm under him and he doubles his efforts, working you faster and faster with the pads of his fingertips until you’re coming hard and fast with his name on your lips as you rock into his hand to chase the pressure of his touch.

“Oh fuck, that’s it” Frankie groans into the hollow of your throat, his fingers sticky and slick with your release. “God you’re so beautiful” he praises, pressing kisses to every inch of flesh he can reach.

His fingers continue to languidly stroke through your folds, easing you down from your high while his own breathing picks up at your continued actions below; practiced strokes of your hand wrapped around him while your thumb occasionally ghosts over his slit, gathering the evidence of his arousal and smearing it all over the thick and sensitive head.

“Fuck, I’m close” he warns, eyes screwed shut in concentration, his forehead now resting against yours. “Fuck!” He curses again and then quickly sits up on his knees, causing your hand to fall away from him and he takes himself in hand to finish himself off, not wanting to make a mess all over you or your pretty dress. Not having much option he yanks his shirt up instead and coats his own stomach with white hot ropes of his release until he’s left heaving and panting on his knees before you, free hand clutched tight on your knee beside him, fingers digging in deep enough you think they’ll leave bruises.

You’ll wear them like a badge of honor.

“Shit,” he breathes and then huffs out a little laugh. His eyes dart around for a moment and then he reaches into the little pocket on the back of the front passengers seat and pulls out a somewhat squished little pack of wet wipes (one of the conveniences of having a small child you presume, always lots of supplies around that adults might not otherwise think of keeping handy) and grabs a couple sheets and wipes up the mess he made of himself before shoving the wipes back into the pocket. You’re staring up at him, tip of your pointer finger between your teeth and a coy grin playing on your lips.

That was by far the absolute hottest make out session you’d ever had. Where has Frankie Morales been all your life, and what had you done to deserve him now?

“Are you still OK? That was… OK?” He asks and it’s sweet how he doesn’t even know how badly he just rocked your whole world.

“Ten out of ten would recommend” you retort teasingly, lifting your foot to push gently at his hip and he rolls his eyes playfully and lands a little swat to your thigh.

“Smartass. Maybe I oughta trade you in for Benny after all” he quips. “Get a lot less lip I bet”

“Hmm, but probably a lot less tongue too” you tease right back and he groans as you yank him down on top of you by his collar once more.

You’re not quite finished with Frankie Morales just yet.

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[whumblr]

Jaybird screaming in the dead of night

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1

-

“Hey Jay,” Zayne sang, slowly, menacingly, butchering ‘Hey Jude’, while swirling himself around the corner into the kitchen startling Jay. “Don’t be afraid.”

Jay, at the first notes of his name in rhyme, turned away from the counter and his dinner prep, his eyebrows raising in surprise and the hairs on his arms in alarm. Just hearing his name in song gave him many reasons to be afraid. He raised his chopping knife in an automatic response, just holding it out in front of him.

“Drop the knife,” Zayne said, now stepping forward and emphasizing his words with the click of his own knife, flicking it up, “Unless you want to compare which one is sharper.”

His kitchen knife might not be as sharp, but it was coated in onion juices. Not an experiment Jay wanted to engage in. With a loud clank, he dropped it in the sink, falling another step back.

Zayne kept advancing on him, slowly, backing him into the dark corner of the kitchen, talking and waving his knife about with every step. “So, I just bumped into your neighbour, downstairs. Or well, he almost fully crashed into me, really. So I shouted after him, holding the door open for him, ‘Hey, what’s the hurry?!’ And you know what he shouted back?”

Probably, yeah, Jay had an inkling of where this was going. And how it was now going to bite – stab – him in the arse. But he kept his mouth shut, dread stealing his voice and knowing Zayne would continue his terrorizing monologue anyway.

Which he did. “He said, ‘Sorry, I’m late!’. So I asked, ‘Late for what?!’” The conversational tone fell away as he leaned forward against Jay, one hand brushing against his, pinning him to the kitchen counter. “Work,” he breathed in Jay’s face. “He was late for work.”

Jay leaned back as far as he could, hands on the edge of the counter, arms bending. He tried to make a soft hum in feigned surprise, but it turned to a soft but sharp inhale as the knife was brought up in his face.

“You never told me he works night shifts,” Zayne crooned, brushing the flat of the knife over Jay’s jawline.

“I mean, it never really came u—”

“But then it all started making sense, you know. How you always tried to hold back on your screaming in the afternoon. And here I was, making an effort to keep the noise down at night…”

The knife fell away from Jay’s clenched jaw, dropped against his clavicle and disappeared under his collar. The cold sensation turned sharper, gradually pressing into his skin.

“Well, no need to worry about that now, you don’t have to hold back. He just left. You can scream as much as you want.”

~

~Bonus~

Zayne leaned back and pulled the kitchen knife from the sink.

“What were you chopping?” he asked, turning the knife back and forth as if he could analyse what was on it (instead of, you know, looking back).

“Onions...”

“Hm.” He swiped his own blade over the knife as if sharpening it, making them sing a threatening tune together. “Do you think it stings in more than just your eyes?”

“You don't need onions to make me cry,” Jay tried to goad him into dropping the knife. He didn’t need a dual-wielding Zayne.

Zayne merely stared at him, eyes softening to a fond expression as he was mulling it over and the stupidity of Jay’s words hit him.

“You’re right,” he said, to Jay’s short-lived relieve. Then his tone shifted and he merely whispered: “I don't.”

-

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[victimeyez]

The Balancing Act

Professional//Victim

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Caius carries Tommy to bed, and muses on their precarious relationship.

TAGLIST: @suspicious-whumping-egg @  @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter @whumplr-reader @theelvishcowgirl @sunshiline-writes @dont-be-gentle-please @galesgallery @thembology @2in1whump @sparrowsage @apokolyps @whumpinggrounds

Tommy was passed out. Caius didn’t want to wake him though, so he held the smaller man in his arms and carried him into the house. (Just this once.) 

This one had been a rough one. Tommy never did well with the ones who wanted sex. Caius thought he would prefer those to the pure pain ones, but he knew those ones really shook him. 

He’d gotten quite good at reading Tommy. Keeping him balanced was a big part of his job, and sometimes that meant providing some niceties. He kept him on high-dose antidepressants to help manage his mood. It also helped with stopping him from trying to off himself, though they had been careful to remove any opportunity for it in his cell. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he had replaced Tommy’s books, but now he had a whole box of them from a library sale. He’d also gotten Tommy a record player with a handful of vinyls. As long as he kept it quiet, he could have it. 

(At least, for now.) 

But some things had to get worse before they could get better. He hadn’t intervened, as the clients had seemed pleased, but he couldn’t let Tommy’s disobedience slide. He’d talked and fought back just the right amount, and he didn’t hold that part against him. 

Trying to communicate with Caius during a session, however, was very much against the rules. He would have to be punished for his indiscretion, but Caius was confident he could keep him from crashing too hard. A little time in punishment and then he could get his “rewards”. When a client clued him in that their session would be a particularly bad one, he prepared minor comforts to soothe Tommy with afterwards.

Especially at the beginning, he had to learn the hard way with Tommy’s limits.Times he hadn’t given him enough of a break always ended up one of two ways: with Tommy catatonic for a month, or pissed off enough to get stupid. He’d try to make an escape or swing on him, and then he’d have to be beaten hard enough that he’d remember why he stopped trying ages ago. It was an ugly affair, and thankfully not one that had been repeated for over a year now. 

He laid him down on his bed, already regretting carrying him as his back ached.. 

He locked his chain lead on. They didn’t always use it, but the chain was bolted to the floor and cemented around the base. Tommy was always kept in high security, one of the only things they had done right when they started their business. Sometimes newbies would try to give their people small freedoms, which inevitably lead to escape attempts and attacks. It partially depended on how meek they’d been made yet, but the psychological aspects could not be trusted like a chain could.

He leaned over to grab his sheets to tuck him in, but Tommy began to stir. Caius pulled the blankets up and bleary red eyes met his.

“You ruined my life.” 

His gaze was unfocused and he spoke quietly. It wasn’t said with an accusatory tone this time. He just sounded so tired. His tone was filled with an aching acceptance, and all the grief in the world.

“You took everything from me.”

“I know.”

[gravedigest]

More DS drabble.

“No offense, Vic, but why are you putting up with it?”

His coworker has a hip leaning against the counter, the lull after lunch rush giving them all a moment to breathe. Victor logs himself out of the register, digging his phone from his back pocket as he slips to the back of the kitchen.

His coworker follows.

“He helps with the chores.”

“He’s not helping with the chores now,” they quirk their head towards the dining room, where Deimos is curled up in a booth. The way he’s zoned out suggests he’s probably working on something, the bored tilt of his head says it’s probably actual work. “Isn’t he freeloading?”

“No. No, he helps.”

“Helps what?”

“Is that actually any of your business?”

“Oh. Ooooh, I see.” That singsong tone of voice.

“No.”

“Still, he’s kind of a wreck, Vic. You could do better.”

“Can you not?”

He’s not in the mood for this.

Everyone trying to pry, dig in at his life. He’s not going to talk about it.

“I’m taking my lunch.”

“Gonna bring food to your boyfr-“

“We’re just roommates. Go fill a bag of ice for me.”

Even with all the heckling, they still do that, at least. Deimos might not be particularly popular as a restaurant appliance, but there’s a general understanding amongst the workers.

They won’t just let him overheat.

So Victor collects his lunch from the back, orders up something for Deimos, and gets the bag of ice.

He’s still blanked out in his booth when Victor gets there, resting on the table, head pillowed in his crossed arms. It makes it easy to get the ice spread over the back of his neck, stirring him just enough that he starts blinking and backing out of his rig.

“Got busy in here for a minute,” Deimos notes, stretching his arms over the table, then grinning up at him. “Lagged out the wifi.”

“Did it mess up whatever you’re doing?”

“Nah, music kept buffering, though. What’d ya get me?”

“Nuggets.”

“You are too sweet to me.”

He can see how hard it is for Deimos to get himself sat up, keeping the weight of his arms on the table, careful not to drop the ice by staying hunched over. Victor pops the box open for him, gets the top ripped off the sauce, the little fine motor things that can be a struggle when he’s lagging out.

And he is lagging out, there’s a slowness to how his eyes are tracking things, a sheen of sweat in his hairline. Little things Victor’s gotten good at noticing.

“Job’s gonna pay okay,” Deimos says it with his teeth halfway through a nugget, only realizing it was too hot halfway through the bite. “‘Lectricity should be good for the month. Or could go for the water, iunno. Your choice.”

“You get the electric, I’ll get water,” He doesn’t know how Deimos can eat the same things for weeks solid like he does, but it simplifies a lot of things.

He’s easy to please.

And he helps.

It’s not that complicated. He’s the easiest job Victor’s ever had.

Except for the parts that are hard.

When Victor checks on him again, nearing the end of his shift, Deimos hasn’t moved.

From across the restaurant, it looked like he was just back to work, face tucked into his arms and his hand around a soda cup.

He should’ve known better, made him take a break from his rig or moved him to the office when the boss had left for the day. Moved him to the walk-in. Had him walk around the dining room for a minute.

He’s crashing.

It takes two more people to help drag Deimos to the walk in, Deimos’ eyes stuck open wide, his limbs locked up in their curled positions, Victor’s shivering in the freezer with him as someone is cussing out corporate for the fact that no one can find a goddamn pen.

Sunglasses.

His sunglasses.

It takes a minute to pull the rubber off of the arm, to expose the narrow metal, but yeah- Yeah. That’s thin enough.

He tilts Deimos’ head down, finding that little pinhole from the diagrams he’d memorized, feeding the tip of the arm into the hole until he can feel the click-

Deimos jerks, immediately slamming his palms into his own eyes and coiling up. “Fuck, ow, shit, fuck- ow-“

“Hey- You’re gonna pop your eyeball-“

His hands drag up his face and into his hair, pressing hard at his skull as he collects himself from the hard cancellation of whatever process he was stuck in. “Shit, shit. What- Where?”

“Freezer?”

“… Overheated?”

… Sometimes, he wishes he could explain some things to Deimos.

He’s a little too deep for that, though.

It’s nicer to him if he just doesn’t know, anyway.

“… Yeah. Shift’s over. Wanna call Sanford?”

“… Yeah.”

[iboatedhere]

from that summer prompts list! an spending the whole day at the beach au would be really nice i think :))

Day 1

The screen door rattles as it slams shut behind him, and Alex drops his suitcase onto the worn hardwood floors. 

The cottage is small but beautiful. A little stuffy and warm, but that’s nothing that can’t be fixed by opening the windows and letting the cool ocean breeze in. 

He leaves his belongings behind and does a quick sweep of the kitchen. The basics are there, just as the AirBnB host said. Salt, pepper, oil, sugar. A box of tea and a canister of coffee. Prepackaged snacks on display on the counter. There are water bottles in the fridge and a box of baking soda. He’ll need to go to the market in town and stock up on produce, dairy, and good coffee, but it’s fine. It’s nice.

From the photos online, he knows the bedroom and bathroom are down the hall to his left, along with a small linen closet with extra sheets, blankets, and pillows. There’s a door that leads to the basement where the washer and dryer are kept and the hot water heater, which he might need to reset if the power goes out during his stay. 

The living room is basic but homey. A couch and two armchairs, each a little frayed at the edges, are set around a wide driftwood coffee table with stacks of board games underneath. No TV. Spotty WiFi. Perfect.

He steps out the sliding glass doors onto the small deck overlooking the beach. It’s early summer, and kids are still in school, so the beach is quiet and barren. It's just a little lonely, but it's relatable. 

He shakes his head, physically knocking the dreary thought from his brain. This isn’t what this vacation is about. So what if his boyfriend of nearly a year revealed that he’d been cheating on him for the last six months two days before the trip, and so what if both the flight and the booking were non-refundable. So what if he had to dip into his savings to pay for this. It’s better to learn that Peter is a heartless douchebag now than five years down the line when Alex is pushing thirty and thinking about marriage and kids and forever. So what if it’s brought up the same feelings of abandonment and inadequacy he’s shoved deep down inside of himself since his parents divorced. It’s okay. 

This week is about self-reflection and discovery. He’s going to learn how to be alone and be okay with it. He doesn’t need a partner to be happy. 

Alex leans forward on the railing and watches the waves crash against the shore until a man coming up the boardwalk catches his attention. 

He’s tall and blond; his blue linen shirt is loose across his shoulders and flutters around his body in the wind. He stops halfway, his shoes in his hand, and turns back toward the beach to whistle. A beagle hops onto the path beside him a moment later, shaking the water from his fur and making the man laugh. 

It’s a nice sound. 

The man and his dog continue up the boardwalk and into the house next door to Alex’s rented cottage. He towels off the dog and wipes his own feet on the mat before disappearing inside. 

Interesting. 

Day 2

The town market is small and overpriced, but Alex is able to get almost everything he needs, minus the coffee. 

Fortunately, the market is next to a cafe selling their beans by the pound. Alex buys two bags and a cherry turnover and learns that there's a farmer’s market in the church parking lot on Sundays. 

On his way out, he spots his neighbor sitting on the patio, a book in his hand, a cup of tea on the table in front of him, and the beagle at his feet.

When Alex passes, the dog lifts its head and wags its tail. Alex wants to stop and ask the man if he can say hello, but his hands are full of groceries and coffee, and the odds of dropping everything and embarrassing himself are too great. 

He keeps walking and regrets not stopping the whole way home.

Day 3

Alex spends the whole day at the beach. 

He packs a cooler with sandwiches, fruit, and beer and hauls one of the folding chairs provided by the host down to the water. 

It’s overcast when he gets down there, but by noon, the sun is high and hot, and he slathers on another layer of sunscreen before he reclines the chair and takes a nap. 

When he wakes up, his neighbor has joined him, sitting an acceptable distance away and a bit too close, considering he has almost the entire beach. 

Alex’s first instinct is to be annoyed because what the fuck, but then his neighbor looks over the top of the book he’s reading and makes eye contact with Alex, then looks away quickly, like he’s been caught. 

Interesting. 

Alex stands up and stretches his arms over his head before pulling his tank top over his head and dropping it to the chair. 

He feels his neighbor’s eyes on him the entire way to the water, where he jumps in without hesitation. When he surfaces, his neighbor is watching him again. This time, he doesn’t look away. 

Day 4

“Bone! You need to bone!”

Alex rolls his eyes at Nora’s voice in the background of the call. 

“We're not going to bone,” Alex says. “I don’t even know his name.”

“Maybe you could ask him,” June supplies helpfully. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“To know his name?”

“To bone,” Nora says, sounding closer to the phone. “Alex, your piece of shit ex cheated on you. You’re legally required to sleep with someone else. You should know that. You’re a lawyer.”

“I’m a paralegal.”

“Same diff.”

“Definitely not.”

“You did say he was good-looking,” June says, getting the conversation back on track, and Alex hums as he looks out the back door. 

From this angle, he can see his neighbor on his deck, where he’s been fiddling with his grill for the last twenty minutes. 

“He is,” Alex agrees, looking over his long legs and broad shoulders. “He can’t work a grill, though. What the fuck is he doing?”

“Go help him!” Nora chimes in. “You two can eat dinner, and then he can eat you—” 

Alex hangs up and opens the door, then steps over to the far side of the deck, closest to his neighbor, who is tapping the gauge of the propane tank.

“I think it might be empty.”

His neighbor’s head snaps up. “Pardon?”

“The tank. If you can’t get it to light, you’re probably out of propane.”

“Oh,” he says as he looks down at the tank. “How do I fix that?”

“Get the tank refilled.”

“And where do I do that?”

“At this time of night, nowhere.”

Those broad shoulders fall. “Oh.”

“You can come over and use mine,” Alex yells over. “The host said it was full.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

His neighbor looks down at his dog at his feet. 

“You can bring—,” Alex starts, and his neighbor interrupts. 

“David.”

“Your name is David?”

“No, I’m Henry,” he says before he gestures down to the dog. “His name is David.”

“Okay….well….you can both come over. This place is listed as pet friendly.” 

Henry looks down at David, then at the grill, then over at Alex. 

“I’ll be over,” Henry calls. 

Alex nods. “I’ll be here.” 

Day 5 

“You know, you never told me what your friend does to afford a beach house.”

“Oh,” Henry says as he picks up a pint of strawberries. “It’s hard to pin Pez down. I suppose he does a bit of everything.”

Alex nods as Henry pays for the berries, and they continue their loop around the farmer’s market. 

Dinner last night was fine. Henry seemed nervous the entire time, but Alex can’t honestly say that he was playing it cool. 

It’s like they both knew mutual attraction was simmering beneath the surface, but neither knew what to do about it. Maybe Henry is just shy, and maybe Alex is a little out of practice after spending nearly a year of his life in a dead-end relationship. 

He did learn that Henry was a copy editor who could work from practically anywhere. He has a sister who might join him next month and a brother who thinks what he does for a living is pointless. 

Alex kind of hates his brother, but he likes the way Henry smiles when he talks about his sister and friend.

“You never told me why you’re here alone,” Henry says, and Alex shrugs.

“You’re here alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have David.”

“Okay, point, but do I have to have a reason? Is it a crime for someone to vacation alone?”

“Certainly not, but….”

“But,” Alex starts with a heavy sigh. “I was supposed to come with my boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Henry says, sounding disappointed.

“Ex-boyfriend now,” Alex explains. “Turns out he was cheating on me, and all the reservations were non-refundable, so…here I am. Alone.”

Henry knocks their shoulders together with a soft smile. “Maybe not so alone.”

Day 6

The power goes out at exactly 11:59 at night.

“Fuck,” Alex swears up at the ceiling while rain and wind pound against the windows and lightning flashes outside. “Fuck.”

He knows he’s lucky that it stayed on for this long. While he’s no stranger to storms (everything is bigger in Texas), the constant weather alerts and warnings that pop up on his phone, combined with how close the house is to the beach, are making him nervous. 

He could leave, get in the rental car, and go, but when he sits up in bed and looks out the window, he can see the lights on at Henry’s place. 

Of course, Henry’s rich friend would have a generator. Of course, Alex can’t leave without him. 

Alex puts on his sneakers and makes a run for it, skidding onto Henry’s front porch and banging on the door, hoping he’s heard over the rolling thunder.

He hears David bark, then quick footsteps, and suddenly, the door opens, and Henry appears through the screen. 

“The power went out,” Alex says with a thumb hooked over his shoulder. “And I don’t know where the candles are in the house, and I’m trying not to freak out–.”

“Are you bloody mad,” Henry interrupts as he opens the screen door and yanks him into the house. “You could have been struck by lightning.”

“I’m a pretty fast runner.”

“Fast enough to dodge lightning?”

“I made it, didn’t I?”

“I suppose,” Henry says. “Now, wait here.”

Henry disappears down the hall while Alex drips over the hardwood. 

“Should we be worried?” Alex calls after him after a particularly loud clap of thunder. “I’m always seeing ocean homes swept into the sea on the news.” 

“Pez said this place has never flooded.”

“Okay, but climate change is getting worse. Just because it didn't happen last season doesn't mean it won’t happen this season.”

“I don’t think we need to worry,” Henry says when he returns, a towel in one hand and a change of clothes in the other. “But I understand why you are.”

Alex takes the towel and the clothes but doesn’t move from his spot by the front door. He’s not sure what to do with the clothes or with Henry, dressed in sweatpants and the softest-looking t-shirt he’s ever seen. Pillow marks across his cheek and his hair mussed with sleep. 

Alex is leaving in a few days, gone forever, and he doesn’t know how he’ll handle losing someone he’s never even touched.

“I’m going to make tea,” Henry tells him as he moves into the kitchen. “I’m thinking chamomile. Would you like some?”

“Later, maybe,” Alex says as he sets the clothes down on the kitchen table and crowds into Henry’s space. “Is this okay?” He asks as he slowly brings his hands up to cup Henry’s face. 

“Oh,” Henry says, expression falling softly as he nods. 

Day 7 

The storm is over by morning. 

Alex wakes to the sun in his eyes, David curled up at his feet, and Henry’s arm draped over his waist.

“Baby,” Alex whispers, his lips brushing across Henry’s forehead. “We should get up.”

Henry’s face scrunches as he tightens his grip on Alex. “Ten more minutes. Or forever.” 

Alex smiles. 

Forever sounds nice.

Day 371

Alex wakes to the smell of coffee and lips pressed to his cheek. 

He reaches out blindly, smiling when his hand catches the hem of Henry’s shirt. 

“Happy anniversary, love,” Henry whispers, and Alex rolls over and opens his eyes. “I got you a coffee and a turnover from the place in town.”

“You’re up early,” Alex says as he sits up and takes the coffee and the bag from Henry. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I could,” Henry says as he sits down beside him. “I wanted to make sure I got to the coffee shop before they were out of the cherry turnovers.”

“I would’ve gone with you.”

“You seemed pretty tired,” Henry says smugly. “I thought it was best to let you sleep.”

Alex hums and takes a sip. “I’ll repay the favor tonight.”

“Looking forward to it. Until then, plans for the day?”

They could do anything. Head down to the beach or take a drive up the coast. Get lost in a coastal bookshop or an antique store for hours. 

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. 

All that matters is that they’re together. 

[enchantedflameandflower]

Glimmer 28/? Billy Butcher fic

Tag List: @2dead2function @secretdreamlandmentality

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter (27)

_____

Chapter 28

Addison’s question echoed throughout the cold, dark warehouse, but MM was only focused on her. 

He was holding Addi’s arms so tight she might’ve cried out if she wasn’t still halfway drugged with the knockout gas. He held her still as his gaze raked over her, assessing for damage like the medic he was. “Addison, you ok? Addison!” he shouted trying to get her to concentrate on him.

All she could do was shake her head frantically as she reached for him and gripped his shirt in her fists. “Billy,” she repeated. “Where’s Billy? Where is Billy?” All she could think about was that he wasn’t here and it was the first thing to truly make her panic so far. 

“Butcher went to the other address…Addison, focus. Are you hurt? Do you remember any of what happened? Do you know who took you? Did you see anything?”

Addison forced herself to take a breath as she shook her head again, still holding on to him. “No…I don’t… I was fucking high as a kite. I don’t remember anything. We have to get to Billy. We have to get out of here, he said…that guy…”

MM finally gave in, and nodded his head, sliding his arm around her back. “You’re right, this place could blow any second, let’s go.” 

Addison could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to just swing her over his shoulder and carry her out of there but he knew well enough not to. Addison was determined to make it out on her own now that she knew she was okay. Good enough, anyway. 

Still, MM kept one arm around her. It wasn’t until she was able to trot outside with them that he visibly relaxed. 

As soon as they were out of the building, MM made sure Frenchie had a hold of Addison before he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He started dialing as they ran to the car, Frenchie making sure Addison could make it on her own. 

“Fuck,” MM growled, thumbing the screen and dialing again. “I can’t get any service. That motherfucker must’ve had some kind of access point set up for his own WiFi.”

He tossed his phone to Addison as he climbed into the car and started the engine in one motion. “Keep trying, I know a shortcut,” he growled. As he peeled down the road Addison swore she heard the building they just left explode behind them and she felt her blood run cold as she tried to dial Billy again. 

*.*.*

The old tires on Billy’s Cadillac skidded, gravel flying as Billy slammed on the breaks in front of the second location, jumping out of the car barely before it came to a complete stop. 

Kimiko was hot on his heels. He burst through the entryway of the abandoned building, knocking the old door right off its hinges to crash to the floor. It looked like an old restaurant and they dashed through the lobby, around the corner into a large room with a few dusty tables and overturned chairs. 

“Addi?!” Billy shouted. “Addi, where are you?!” 

A quiet noise came from the next room over and together they raced in that direction. The sight that met them made Billy roar in defeat. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t fucking her. He felt like he was going to be sick and he almost threw a table into the wall but the sound of the young woman whimpering desperately snapped him out of it. 

“Fucking hell,” he growled. Kimiko was already with her, pulling the gag from her mouth and trying in her way to reassure her silently. 

“We’re gonna get you out of here,” Billy rumbled as he crossed around behind her, flipping his knife open to cut through the zip ties binding her wrists. 

“He - he said there’s a bomb,” the young woman whimpered, her whole body trembling as Kimiko helped her to stand. 

“Get her out of here,” Butcher said to Kimiko, turning to meet her stare. 

She shook her head frantically, using her free hand to sign wildly at him. 

Butcher shook his head. “I have to check. I have to make sure she ain’t…” He swallowed. “Get her out. Now.”

The sky was just beginning to lighten on the horizon as sunrise drew nearer. Addison, MM and Frenchie pulled up to the abandoned lot to find Kimiko jogging through the parking lot, or trying, with her arm around another woman who looked like she could barely stand upright. 

As soon as they parked, Frenchie called out for Kimiko and ran to help her but all Addison could see was who wasn’t there. 

She scrambled out of the car in a daze, still partly in shock, half drugged, exhausted and buzzed out of her mind on adrenaline all at the same time. “Billy…” she choked out, looking from Kimiko toward the building and to Kimiko again. “Billy, where’s Billy?!” Addison stumbled forward, looking desperately at Kimiko, who shook her head, as she helped the woman lean against the hood of the car. As soon as both her hands were free she started signing frantically. 

“He’s in there,” Frenchie translated. “He’s looking for you.”

Addison whirled around, pushing off hard and ready to race in to find him but MM moved like lightning and snagged her around the waist with his arm, pulling her back against him. A frustrated cry left her as he held onto her easily. She was too weak to do anything but push futilely at his muscled arm. 

“I have to…please!” she cried out. She couldn’t focus enough to listen but she just knew the place was going to -

A fiery explosion tore through the atmosphere in front them and they all ducked on instinct. Addison heard a horrible scream then realized it came from herself. “No!” She cried out, finally lurching away from MM. “No…” She took two steps forward but there was no use going any further. She fisted her fingers in her own shirt, her hands shaking as panic and despair bubbled up inside of her. The building was in flames now. Heat wove through the air, warming her skin while debris and ashes floated down from the sky. It was smoky and hazy and she couldn’t see much of anything but she couldn’t tear her gaze away either. 

He was gone. This was it. She’d gotten him killed, blown to pieces. After everything he’d been through, it was her that killed him. A desperate sob escaped from her throat and she had to gasp for air as her lungs began to seize up. Her chest was filling with smoke but it felt like lead, heavy and dark and horrible. The image of his dead body, in there now, blackened, burning, wouldn’t leave her head. She’d done this to him. She caused this. “Noo…” she heaved, clutching her middle. She was frozen where she stood, unable to move, not even able to collapse. 

The grey smoke swirled and changed in front of her, shadows shifting and wavering until she couldn’t tell if what she was seeing was real or she was hallucinating. It felt like she’d been suspended there for hours but it had only been a few seconds. And now the smoke was coming toward her, maybe coming to take her too...shifting into a dark figure of death. Oh please, please take me too, she thought. Let me go with him…Billy…

The hazy smoke figure whirled and evolved as she watched through her blurry vision until she could almost imagine she really was looking at Billy, hunched over, stalking and stumbling toward her. What a cruel trick for her mind to play on her, she thought, the tears coming harder now. 

But then MM called out from behind her, and the figure came closer and looked up at her. Billy. It was him. He was alive. Somehow, he was alive. 

When their eyes met suddenly they were both running toward each other, like magnets unable to control the pull they felt to be melded together. Addison was crying desperately now, her face wet with tears. She couldn’t get to him fast enough.

As soon as she was close enough, she leapt into his arms, and they crashed into each other with so much force all of the wind was knocked out of her. Billy dropped to his knees as he held her against his chest with an iron embrace. He was covered in soot and smoke and dirt. His shirt was torn and her clothes were still wet with her blood but she couldn’t care. Her bare knees scraped against the pavement as he dragged her closer and she held on to him desperately, straddling his lap on the ground. 

“Addison,” he gasped roughly, and she sobbed again at the sound of his rough voice. “Addison. You’re okay. Holy fuck, ya scared me,” he slid his hand into her hair, pulling her to him and kissing her forehead. “You’re my girl, ya hear me?” he was crying with her now, his heavy brow furrowed and his eyes glistening. His strong fingers were tangled so deep in her hair she was sure he’d never be able to get them out again and he was holding her so tight she could hardly breathe. “My girl…”

“Billy,” she said his name, in gasps and soft shudders, over and over. 

He tugged on her hair so he could look at her, look in her eyes, maybe to try and convince himself she was real because that’s how she felt too and she could only cry harder when she met his dark hazel eyes, brimming with tears and fire and affection and need and everything else ever. 

“I love you,” she sobbed out, still struggling for breath, her heart racing wildly in her chest. “I’m so sorry, Billy. I love you. I love you.”

Somehow the emotion in his eyes grew even deeper. “I love you, too, sunshine,” he husked, his voice low and thick and gruff and perfect. “I love you too.”

Sirens sounded in the distance and Addi realized everyone was probably staring at them but she couldn’t care less. Billy shifted and gathered Addison even closer, pressing her face back into the crook of his neck.

She closed her eyes and stayed still until she could hear the beating of his heart, over and over and over. Her Billy. He was alive. He was okay. 

“I love you,” she said again, sighing against his pulse, “I love you, I love you,” and she felt him repeat it with her. 

Listening to his heart, in his arms like this, after what they’d made it through, Addison knew with an absoluteness she had never experienced ever before in her life that she would never willingly leave his side again. 

_____

Chapter 29

Please leave a comment, a suggestion, a word, anything! Thank you!

[hwaightme]

Your fan, Yunho (part 2)

(part 1) (your fan ml)

🎮 pairing: yunho x game developer!reader 🎮 genre: fluff, slice of life, opposites attract, serendipity, humour 🎮 summary: a bulletpoint-style wordstream of what it would be like if yunho was stanning you 🎮 wordcount: 3.8k 🎮 warnings/tags: language, reader is a developer, coding and gaming is life, yunho is a gaming enthusiast, discussions of social anxiety, implied depressive episode, yunho teasing season open, mingi covering a corpse song, business friend saves the day, slight angst, rumination, ibb and obb, yeosang is a legend (best homie), mingi is a wingman, let me know if anything else 🎮 a/n: Hello! And thank you so much for the love and support!! Here is part two for Your fan, Yunho, where things go WILD. Previous part can be found here. Any likes, asks and reblogs appreciated and.... stay tuned for more things to come~

Totally the type of duo to make username matched smurf accounts.

He was not sure what you would approve of, so he pushed his fantasies aside and pretended like he was also thinking of the duo name for the first time

You caught yourself overthinking, biting your lip in frustration, totally unaware of how hyperfocused Yunho was on your image on his screen.

Giving yourself a mental shove, you blurted out a suggestion, making Yunho glow at how unbelievably cute you were when even the tiniest bit shy.

And that was how you became "Ibbity & Obbity", homage to the two-player puzzle-platform coop game.

You two formed a rare dynamic. Having moved from chatting on Steam to Discord, you were happily alerting one another of when your ults were charged, or when you had a good opportunity to snipe someone, or when either of you needed support.

Initially, that was all you spoke about, with you not daring to deviate out of your comfort zone, and Yunho not wanting to hurt you or stop talking.

He could pay to hear you babble away about why one character was better than another or deep diving into why some obscure game's server crashed the other day.

These gaming sessions were almost instantly discovered by the other members, and the teasing was unstoppable.

Interestingly, Wooyoung, who had been there in the moment you two 'spoke' for the first time, kept it pretty tame, settling for suggestive winks and occasionally joining in if it was a game he liked (or if he was struggling with a part of Aenigmata - not that you would reveal any cheats)

Oh no, the most brutal was his best friend, Mingi, who had somehow convinced Hongjoong to record him covering the song "E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY LIFE" and playing it at full volume while they were at dance practice and wanted to try a bit of freestyling to warm up.

Needless to say, that evening Yunho had been more bashful than you had ever seen him before, attempting to mask it with laughter that came to haunt you in the best way possible, and when he noticed Mingi slipping (read as barging) into his room, phone in hand, nearly drop kicked the poor guy.

And that was the moment you knew you never wanted your time with Yunho to end. Talking to him was effortless, and he had an undeniably positive influence on you while never overstepping boundaries or challenging you.

The sessions were becoming less about the game, and more about each other, as you began to inquire after how his day was, how we was feeling, if he ate.

If someone had hooked up the heart rate monitor to him the first time you had, after a long pause (to the point where Yunho started checking his wifi), veered off your usual topics and directly addressed him, asked about him and him alone... they would probably wonder how he was still alive.

Words spilled out of him like a waterfall as he shared with you all the stories he had saved but never would have guessedyou wanted to hear.

And oh boy, how you did. How you wanted to see what he saw, do what he did, go where he went. There was a pang of jealousy for just how connected he appeared to the outside world, and just how much love he got to experience day to day.

But for the time-being, you brushed that off, deeming it to be something insignificant. What mattered was that, Yunho was ecstatic, and you too, for the most part.

As time went on, he was getting busy with more schedules, practices and had to divert his attention back to, well, his job. With your gaming/deep talk calls starting later and later, getting shorter and shorter, it was obvious that your routine was quickly becoming unsustainable.

He was an idol after all, and his entire lifestyle did not constitute physically staying in one place.

And who were you? A person who was perfectly content with staying in the comfort of Cogent Studio or your apartment, living a digital daydream. Your world was far-removed from the sold out stadiums. Far removed from the huge teams of stylists, managers, designers, coaches, and, basically everyone who Yunho would normally interact with.

You were just pixels on his screen, an illusion. Extended fan service. He probably lied about liking Aenigmata just to appease you and fool you into spending every day thinking about him.

Why did he have to charm his way into your heart, most probably with the full knowledge that it was not going to go anywhere?

So you did what you did best. Shut down.

Yunho was in a panic? Did he do something wrong? Did something happen? Were you okay?

A day, two more passed, and you had not logged into neither Discord nor Steam, or were purposefully hiding from him. Yunho scouted all of your streamer friends, Twitter accounts, YouTube, quite literally all accounts that he could think to be associated with you, but found nothing except standard announcements and activity not related to you.

He was out of it. Though he was not slacking off, and as a matter of fact even added to his workload to try forgetting about you even if for just a second, both his members and eagle-eyed fans noticed a change in his demeanour.

The energy maker, the happy virus. Those titles now sounded more like a curse to him.

It was like you were malware in his brain that he could not trace nor erase. And while performing, while being there in front of thousands, all he could ponder was if there was a possibility you would be bothered to see clips from the concert.

His members, who initially were merciless with their jokes, assuming that this was nothing to worry about and you just got busy, saw that Yunho's disposition was getting progressively worse.

He would toss and turn as a bout of insomnia got the better of him, mich to the dismay of his roommates.

Normally respectful of the cleanliness in their apartment, Yunho became more absent-minded and, risking his own life, left paper cups on the kitchen counters a couple of times.

Mingi could not stand his friend suffering anymore, so being the creative genius he was he made a suggestion that may just be a ray of hope.

Go live, and play Ibb & Obb.

Whilst Yunho had been struggling to keep a straight face and not fall apart on stage, you were crumbling in total isolation.

You were communicating with your colleagues almost exclusively through Github, newly pushed code being the best way to see that you were still out there... somewhere

Your co-founder, being the sweetheart that he was, had taken over any social media interactions that required senior involvement

And the rest of your team instantly adapted to your hermit mode, seamlessly continuing to communicate with you but via less personal means.

Normally, this extreme reboot would have worked in a day, however things were not looking bright.

You were feeling heartbreak, and so acutely, that you was very much an illness.

And paired with the overwhelming sense of guilt, three days in after 'the ghosting' you completely ceased to function.

It was your friend, the one who had given you your light and darkness, your reality in the form of Jeong Yunho, that dragged you out of your bed sheet  cocoon.

You had been watching some of Yunho's fancams and funny moment compilations, simultaneously wanting to beat yourself up until you blacked out for letting such a wonderful, kind and understanding human go.

When you suddenly heard your front door SLAM OPEN, leaving you wondering if it entirely flew off its hinges or not, and saw your friend's figure in the door frame to your bedroom, in a battle pose.

"WAKE THE FUCK UP SAMURAI, WE'VE GOT A CITY TO BURN"

No amount of pleading could save your from the wrath of a friend who wanted to get you out of the wreck you created for yourself.

Once she had you cleaned up and forced you to change into a cute outfit "for the vibes", she sat you down and made you walk through, step by step, what happened.

Last time you had gone into such a state was because of your participation in a particularly large convention, where you had the opportunity to share the stage at an event with some legends of the game development scene.

And it would have been fun, had you not had a persistent fear gnawing at you, for hours on end as the event progressed. From the busy booths and  overcrowded fan events to the handshakes and talking and faces upon faces upon faces who all but blended into one large, disfigured and unidentifiable monster.

By some miracle you managed to stay standing, all the way until you walked into your hotel room, and had what had to be the closest thing to a personal apocalypse.

Since then, even a lateral association with crowds without a screen to separate you, or an in person interaction over which you had minimal control sent you spiralling down into an abyss.

Basically the very opposite of what Yunho thrived off.

The more you explained, about your perception of his social life, about his work day and even about his friendships and personality, the clearer it became to your carefully listening friend that you were head over heels, but equally terrified.

Because you fell in love with what was pretty much an alternative universe to you.

An yet, as your friend then explained, she could see that, more than ever before, you were willing to fight yourself and your demons to try your best and be a part of that universe.

For goodness' sake, you were a designer of whole worlds. Out of your brilliant mind came to fruition many best-selling games, with one having a storyline that was being considered for a movie adaptation.

You had a vision like no other, one where the most complex systems were much-admired intricate works of art. With you designing every piece and putting it all together.

You had the skills, and now it was time to apply them 'irl'.

The rest of the day was spent by listening to your friend giving you pep talk after pep talk; little did you know, the same thing was happening to Yunho, except instead of one life coach, he had a total of seven, shouting over one another, almost hopping from place to place on their large living room sofa.

The next day you were proud of yourself to have slept and woken up at a reasonable time, and better yet, you did pretty well in emulating a morning routine.

While you were booting up your computer, a notification popped up on your phone. ATEEZ YouTube channel? You were perplexed. Reading the title, your soul almost left your body. It was a Yunho and Mingi live. Without a second's pause, you tapped on your screen, to unveil the pair, sitting side by side, attempting to set up screen sharing.

You couldn't quite place a finger on it, but to you Yunho appeared more... sad? Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you, but something felt off.

As you continued watching, you noticed just how gentle Mingi was with him. Making playful jokes, reading compliments from chat out loud and acting every bit like an older brother would, which from your understanding was not usually the case.

Finally, they set everything up, what you saw made your head spin. The puzzle platform coop. The game that you and Yunho had played a couple of times, but most importantly had based matching usernames off.

Before they started, Yunho went into an explanation of the game, its history and why it was special, and you noticed very familiar language. Language you had used when explaining the game to him. And once they launched into the game, of course he chose the character that his username was based off - obb.

You realised. This was his final call. You had to act, and act fast.

So you did the unthinkable and contacted the one other person who you felt you could comfortably speak to out of your newest acquaintances - Yeosang. You had also connected with him on Discord, though barely spoke outside of shared sessions with Yunho.

<e-y/n> hello

The reply came almost instantly

<sk8rboi> hi

You were nervous, but pushed it away as far as you could. This was not a match you could lose.

<e-y/n> this is going to sound really odd, but is there any way i can contact yunho?

<sk8rboi> come over

<e-y/n> ... nani?????

<sk8rboi> this mutual simping is wild

<sk8rboi> come get ur man pls I want peace

...

<sk8rboi> hey u there? if u ghost me i will ddos ur ass

<e-y/n> yeah yeah sorry just... did you say mutual?

<sk8rboi> yh bruh istg how did u even come up w aenigmata

<e-y/n> bruh what you mean

<sk8rboi> nvm just heres the address and u can come over like nowish

<sk8rboi> [address sent]

<sk8rboi> and while u wait for long boi to call it a day on ibbobb u can spill dev secrets >:)

<e-y/n> thank you *tips fedora*

<sk8rboi> ew yunho has one helluva taste

What in the world did you agree to just now?

Where was your rationality?

Were you really about to haul a ball of anxiety that was yourself across the city, and into the dorms of 8 grown men and celebrities?

You were wild. But you were wildly in love, so upon masking the majority of your still lingering episode under a bit of refreshing makeup and your confidence-boosting fit, you were off.

And back again because you needed your car keys - you were not about to conquer that barrier yet, the metro could stay as a no-go zone for a while longer.

Call yourself fast and furious, because you swore you used nitro boost to zoom through the streets of Seoul, dodging traffic like you did this on the daily. Adrenaline was your only fuel, and you were very much out of breath once you arrived at the large complex where ATEEZ lived.

Remembering some broken version of breathing exercises you had been taught some time ago, you steadied yourself and gave yourself some time. You cruised around the neighbourhood a couple times until you found an inconspicuous parking spot, because even though probably no one would care, you couldn't help it.

Face obscured by a mask, you shuffled over to the door of the building checking a couple of times to make sure you weren't making a mistake. Before buzzing them, you messaged Yeosang once again, and he promptly let you in.

Once on the right floor, he was already already waiting for you, dressed in a hoodie, knee-length shorts and slides.

"Woah, you actually made it. Big respect. Come on in, Y/N."

It was very easy to be casual with him, as he was practically your long lost brother.

You beamed at him after sliding off your mask, and carefully taking off your shoes at the door to replace them with a pair of slippers he set down on the ground before you. While doing so, you heard him suddenly start counting down...

"And a 3, and a 2, and a-"

"YO YEOSANG WHO IS AT THE DOOR?" that voice sounded very familiar, and soon enough, the one and only Wooyoung appeared around the corner.

And froze. Jaw dropped. Then shrieked.

You were a deer caught in the headlights, again finding yourself punching the daylights out of your false sense of bravery. You wanted to turn right back around when-

"Y/N? IT IS Y/N! THE Y/N! Oh you have no idea how happy I am to meet you in person finally, come through. Statue man, why are you not letting her in?"

"Bro you intercepted like no tomorrow, this was a covert ops mission and you are like a nuke."

"Man, you literally brought THE Y/N over to OUR PLACE and are telling me to chill?"

"Yeah, tone it down. Like a thousand notches. For everybody's mental health."

You gave Yeosang an appreciative nod as he cut Wooyoung's excitement short. To be fair, you were excited too, but at the moment your instincts were telling you to escape at the first possible moment.

Wooyoung rapidly switched though, much to your joy, and in a much softer tone, greeted you again and told you to follow him.

Once in the living room, you were met with one more inquisitive pair of eyes. When he noticed that you were not sure how to address him, be it because you did not know him too well or were just shying away, he, gallant as ever stood up and introduced himself. That was how you met San.

Aside from Mingi and Yunho, apparently the rest of the members had some work to be done so were out of the house and promised to not be back until late. So you took the time to try power through small talk with Wooyoung, Yeosang and San.

With Yeosang definitely mediating because he could somehow read your vibes scarily easily.

Soon enough the Woosan duo decided to push some buttons and turned on the Yungi live, enjoying seeing you falter as you were talking. And you thought you were going to be safe from teasing entirely? Rookie mistake.

Although they knew the details from Yunho's side, they wanted to hear at least a bit from you, but you were a tough nut to crack. They did not know just how much game industry insider information you were used to carrying all the time.

Personal info was nothing. But you kind of, sort of... did want to gush about Yunho. But not now, not when everything was hanging by a thread.

Fast forward to an hour later, and as a way to thank the guys for taking care of you and standing your presence for so long, you ordered them food. Then and there they labelled you as a certified homie.

Just when you and the guys had arranged everything on the kitchen counter, you heard the door unlock, and lo and behold, in came Mingi, followed by an unreadable Yunho.

While driving back, San had discreetly texted Mingi, so he knew what was coming, and gave you a megawatt grin and a thumbs up.

If only you could replay the moment Yunho had raised his eyes and saw you at least once every hour of the day (who were you kidding, your brain was going to take care of that)

It was the kind of glee that you had only encountered in particularly sappy movies or shoujo manga. You almost wondered where the flower petals were.

What happened next swept you off your feet, literally. Not giving a damn that the other members will finish him off or maybe even expose him as a hopeless romantic on some future variety show, he strode over to you and wrapped his strong arms around your frame, lifting you up slightly so you had to balance on your tiptoes. Your face was quickly turning red, but you couldn't and wouldn't pull away.

This action was all you needed to know that your ruminations were self-sabotage, and that you overcoming your fear even if just for today was more than right.

You buried your face in his shirt, careful not to smudge anything but nevertheless relishing in his presence the fact that this was all in real life. He was here. You were here.

Both of you ignored the hollering of the gathered members, some of whom took the chance to sneak the food out on display.

Yunho asked you out then and there, whispering the words into your ear, making a shiver go down your spine. You nodded again and again, and gave him another tight hug.

How desperately he wanted to plant a kiss on your soft lips. The ones that had formed a light cheeky pout as you two finally pulled away when Yeosang shouted "get a room". He wanted to show you in every way that he was yours. And that you could rest assured nothing was going to change that.

After all, you were like ibb and obb. Worked best together.

Bonus:

Now for him, it was not easy keeping your relationship a secret. Not when he was smiling at his phone, and unabashedly calling you while literally backstage, just to show you how things were around there.

You were not ready to attend any of the big events yet, nor were you fond of the idea of hanging around the equally busy backstage, but you knew everything that was going on thanks to the stream of pictures, videos and calls you received. Down to documentary-style explanations where Yunho scouted for some funny close ups of his members.

Very early on you had discussed social boundaries, and you had explained to him the details of what battles you were yet to find, and fell in love with him all over again when he was the most respectful and understanding person on the planet.

You were slowly building up courage, and were already improving leaps and bounds - your business friend was overjoyed when you independently hosted your own livestream, and organised a q&a session for fans. Magazines and merch stores took a greater interest in your work, and you were happily liaising with them, of course with support of your team, and of your boyfriend, Yunho.

Both you and Yunho learned together what a balancing act life can be, but, with some adjustments and open communication, were making it happen. Step by step, closer and closer.

Staff were quick to ship you two, seeing how Yunho had somehow become even more attractive on stage, sending fans into a frenzy. Really it was so that he could later observe the effect he had on you.

At the same time, he quickly gained a soft spot in some gaming fans' hearts as he ventured into the area a little bit more, for the time being either alone or with another member.

If Yunho thought the e-girl jokes were going to die down, they only got stronger. And when some fans started forming theories about Yunho's patterns, wondering if there was either some collaboration on the horizon or something much deeper, started telling him to come clean to ATINY about his Twitch subscriptions.

Maybe someday, only when you told him you were okay with it, he would shout to the world that Yunho and Y/N were an item, but for now, he was more than in love with you and the two-player world you two built, and you were more than in love with him and his way to bring you to a beautiful reality.

[gurugirl]

I may or may not have sent you like 5 super boops cause the wifi crashed for a sec and I didn’t realize until I kept trying to get it to go through lmaoooo so sorry but not really actually cause you deserve all the super boops

What a fun birthday activity hahhaahah

Oh my god I love every boop and super boop so there's not a part of me that feels disappointed or annoyed by it lol! This is really fun 💕 Feels like tumblr did it just for me for my birthday 🥰

(i know tumblr didn't do it for me in case anyone takes that seriously - just to ward off the anons before they start up with me being full of myself lol)

xoxo

[ivaalo]

I'm trying to get my new laptop tomorrow. I cannot work with this one anymore. The last version of WAMP is getting too greedy for my RAM, it's constantly crashing. (I should have kept the last one, if it wasn't for Brevo, I also lost some of my scripts I forgot to move, dammit)

My actual PC is a ROG from Asus, GTX 960, 8 Go, from 2015. Here are the damages:

I milked my graphic card by playing Just Cause when it was cold so I could have some heating from my laptop. Now it's very tired lmao. It freezes my PC.

My sound card is also very tired. It crashes, have those clicks and freezes my PC too

The WiFi won't connect unless I use my cellphone to share the connection.

The letter E of my keyboard is getting free

However, I feel like I've taken care of it. I had no viruses and no data losses. Having a laptop for 9 years without changing components is something to be proud of!

Now I'm getting a TUF from Asus, RTX 3050, 16 Go. And it's not even that expensive. I'll see the changes, I'll be able to work fine and run games again!

Some things I'll consider:

Having two accounts (personal, professional) & one administrator (for installations)

Closing it after shutting it down, to avoid the dust to get on the keyboard

Maybe getting an antivirus other than Avira

[flamesque]

((Thank you admin, I'm feeling better today. It was just one of those bad days where nothing goes your way you know? And yes does things really did happen to me yesterday. But I'm fine now ♡ ))

((Angst?))

She walked over to rafayel, sitting down next to him as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Hands hugging him around his waist. Staying still like this and enjoying his comfort.

"Thank you fishie. This is what I need right now",

she nods and looks up at him with a exhausted sigh. Her hands clinging to his shirt. Fighting her tears. Not again.

"I don't mind telling you. Today was just exhausting. Mentally. Nothing worked like planned. The whole day everything just went wrong. There are so many things I should do but none of them went right. I got lost today and kept everyone waiting, I bought an expensive cake but someone ran into me and before I could eat it it feel to the floor, I hit my toe on the table today, my inspiration is on a all-time low today and also my wifi crashed my whole story I wrote got deleted...",

she couldn't help but to tear up again, voice breaking at every word. Cuddling closer to rafayel,

"I just feel like a loser today. I know you might think, "it's just a cake" but no, it was like really expensive and I was looking forward to this cake all day. It wasn't just a cake you can buy everywhere.. Also people say, "you can write it again",.. yes but it won't be as good as the one that got deleted, it's frustrating.. rafayel it's just like.. you work super hard on one of your paintings and then someone drops it and now it's ruined.. and then someone tell you "you can draw it again".. ",

she sobs, trying to catch her breath to calm down,

"I'm sorry for rambling and venting this to you..",

she sobs again, calming down a bit. Clinging to her comfort person. The person that makes her feel the safest. Rafayel just had something about him, something that made her feel at ease with him. Calming her nerves. Lucky he was here.

"Nah, I wouldn't be tellin' you any of that. People... tend to deal with things a lot different than others. If somethin' happens to my painting when I'm close to completing it or in the middle of painting it, well... it happens. And I just find other ways to work with it—that doesn't mean you should do the same."

He shakes his head, pulling her close as he sifts his slender digits through her hair and humming a soft tune as he listens.

"Sure, you can do everything all over again but it's still frustrating to know that the original work is gone, but... you're a talented writer, Tessa. Even if it's not the same as the first, I'm more than certain your next one is goin' to be great, if not even better. But—"

He kisses her temple with a small smile, rubbing her back.

"Don't be sorry. That's why I'm here... 'm always willin' to listen to whatever you need right get off your chest. Alright?" He gently cups her chin, making her face him as he kisses her cheeks and then her forehead. "However, 'm not gonna allow you to think or feel like you're a loser because you're not."

[celestialking]

I already sent this to grace buttt imagine Sam taking his frustrations out on u when he told chat he was going to sleep because he was having wifi problems during his subathon and it kept crashing while he told chat he was going to bed :)

(Thanks for the heads up♡)

And👀 he'd be so frustrated. Walk into your room pacing the floor and ranting about the wifi until you suggest something else he could be putting his energy into.

Mmm but letting him manhandle you and just fucking away his frustrations 🫣 soft grunts n moans as he just wrecks you 🫠